Croup. Stupid, Stupid Croup.

Forgive the lack of photos today. Computers, in addition to croup, are also stupid. But anyways…

This weekend marked the umpteenth time that Ewan got croup. We should know the drill by now. He has had it, oh, a million times already. But it never fails to catch us off guard. Which I guess makes sense. After all, like all previous bouts of croup, we put a perfectly normal, happy, healthy boy to bed, only to wake up a few hours later.

Cough. Bark. Wheeze.

We know the routine well enough that it doesn’t take long before we spring into action.

One of us heads into Ewan, as quickly as we can to keep him from getting too worked up. Worked up happens, he can’t breathe so well after all.

The other heads to the bathroom, starting the shower running as hot as it’ll possibly go. And dials the pediatrician.

I’m not even quite sure why we bother to call. With Ewan’s croup, and the fact that he always gets the associated stridor (a wheezy noise that indicates his airway isn’t fully open), the answer has always been the same.

Go to the ER.

Again, we know the routine.

One of us stays with Ewan.

The other runs around like crazy, calling a taxi and packing a bag.

Then, when the taxi comes, we all head out and ride to the ER to get the same answers we always get. He has croup. He needs the steroid. It could be worse tomorrow night.

But this time was different. This time there was another little babe sleeping in the other room. Another little babe that shouldn’t be roused, unnecessarily, from peaceful slumber (he rouses himself – and me – from peaceful slumber enough as it is).

The decision of who would stay and who would go was simple. I, being the sole provider of nourishment since the little babe decided he would not drink from a bottle thank-you-very-much, would stay.

So, I packed up two of my boys and off they went. I stayed and it was one of the harder things I’ve had to do since the three of us became four.

It was hard letting him go. Not being the one to be there. To hold him. To reassure him.

It was hard not being able to be his person.

It was hard having to divide and conquer.

It was hard having to choose.

As I sat in my house watching the taxi drive away with tears welling in my eyes (okay, okay, streaming down my cheeks), I was sad, obviously. But I was also so very thankful that Aaron is as good of a Papa as he is. I was glad that I could be 100% confident that Ewan would be ok. That Aaron would do all of those things as well as I could, maybe better. It was reassuring to be sad not because my little boy would suffer in my absence but simply because I didn’t want to be absent.

And so it goes.

This parenting stuff, it ain’t easy, I tell you.

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Development Mountains

It’s wild watching how development goes. Fits and spurts, much like the way I do business these days. I feel like we have long plateaus followed by massive mountains.

The past week has been a massive mountain kind of week, for both boys.

Xander, as I’ve mentioned, is mobile. Still not hands and knees or even forward motion for that matter, but mobile all the same. With the same unique slide that Ewan used.

Oh, and he’s an eater too. He’s tried bananas, avocado, pumpkin and sweet potato. All mixed with copious amounts of mama milk. His favorites, by far, are the avocado and pumpkin. So very different from his fruitatarian big brother.

Ewan, on the other hand, has become a true helper. When he wants to, of course.

Tuesday nights are our nights alone, while Aaron is at grad school. It can be a long day. What’s more, it can be a long night, cleaning up the day’s detritus once the boys are in bed. No need to wait until after bedtime, as it turns out.

Ewan, singlehandedly, cleaned up nearly every toy in the place. After I turned it into a little game. It was GLORIOUS to come out to a picked up house when bedtime duty was done.

Oh, and he can help with the chopping too.

Equipped with his own knives, safe but still capable of cutting, he now helps with the dinnertime chopping.

Here are his peppers.

He chops all sorts of things – tomatoes, garlic, parsley, and he loves it. And, I love having him in there with me.

I think tomorrow we are going to wash windows. I’m pretty sure I can get him on board with that!

Mountains. They are awesome. But I’ve gotta say, the plateaus are nice too. It’s nice to slow down and drink in these two little ones. Cliche, I know, but they are growing up way.too.fast.

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This Moment

Inspired by Amanda over at Soulemama, I’ve chosen to spend Fridays taking the chance to record a single moment from the everyday around here. One moment that I just don’t want to forget.

We are four and we’ve been four for quite some time. Six months, already, really?! But there is very little photographic evidence of all of us together. In the same place. At the same time.

So, here it is. The four of us.

Being four is pretty good, I think.

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I Make because I Must

Yesterday was one for the record books.

It was chaos.

It was filled with tantrums and struggles and conflict. It was filled with tears and arguments and unkind words.

Nothing, and I mean nothing went as planned.

Then, finally, in the afternoon there was a bit of a break as Xander’s weary body finally gave in to the rest he needed despite the less-than-favorable conditions.

Ewan stopped fighting long enough to realize he was utterly exhausted, both body and mind, from a day to nonstop conflict. Snoozing in a heap on the hardwood floor. Sleepy breaths punctuated by sighs, the remnants of a tantruming body even in sleep.

And, in those few minutes, where the house was quiet and I finally had a moment to breathe and relax, I did the only thing I could do given all the chaos and conflict.

I made something.

Two pairs of pants, as it turns out.

Because I had to. I had to use my hands. I had to distract my mind.

And then, when they both woke up, I was able to show them their new pants. Xander, as expected, was nonplussed by the whole gesture. Ewan, on the other hand, was grateful. And excited. And insisted that we take pictures.

I’d like to tell you that pants saved the day but, actually, they only saved the handful of minutes while these pictures were taken. Then the chaos and foul-moods of the day returned, with a vengenance.

I’m still glad I made them because, honestly, those two new pairs of pants were the only good things that came from yesterday.

So, yay for pants.

Tell me, so I can throw a few extra ideas into my next terrible day coffer, what do you do to redeem otherwise unredeemable days?

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